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AN EASTER LILY 





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“ The two big lily buds lay on the floor ” 


An Easter Lily 

BY 

AMANDA M. DOUGLAS 


With Illustrations by 
A. D. GONZALEZ 



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PHILADELPHIA 

Henry Altemus Company 


HBRARY of CONGRESS 

Twt CopiM RtceivM 

SEP 28 1906 




By The Same Author 


HOW BESSIE KEPT HOUSE 
A LITTLE MISSIONARY 
CLOVER’S PRINCESS 
WHAT CHARLIE FOUND TO DO 

FIFTY CENTS EACH 


Copyright, 1906, by Henry Altemus 


CONTENTS 


Page 

An Easter Lily 13 

Kathie’s Fairy-land 31 

How Ben Hewes Found Santa Claus 49 

Grace’s Holiday 79 

Gone Astray 99 

[vii] 



ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ The two big lily buds lay on the floor ” 

“ An old-fashioned country house ”... 

Mrs. Trevor 

“ She seldom left the wheeling-chair ” . 

“ They had a delightful talk ” 

“ Sewing wearily day after day ” . . . . 

“ She gave Kathie the basket ” .... 

“ Kathie hated washing dishes ” . . . . 

“ A tall foreign-looking gentleman ” . . 

“ ‘ Went out and fixed the switch ’ ” . , 

“ ‘ Why, Jemmy Arno, is it you . 

“ ‘ He ’d lie there on two chairs ’ ” . . . , 

“ ‘ The old gent paid the rent ’ ” . . . 

“ ‘ I thought you did’nt like Jennie Carlton ’ ” 
“ ‘ It is best and right,’ she said ” . . . , 

“ Grace began to read ” 

“ Some one stood on the porch ” 


Page 

Frontispiece 

... 15 
... 17 
... 19 

... 25 

... 33 

... 35 

... 41 

... 45 

... 51 

61 

... 67 

... 73 

. . 81 

... 89 

... 01 
... 93 


[ix] 



AN EASTER LILY 



An Easter Lily 


S HE had such a fiery temper, this little 

Alice Dane, and with it all the sweetest 
face imaginable, a generous heart and 
willing hands. There had been three 
big boys when baby Alice came and they had 
loved her and teased her. She was her father’s 
idol. So the poor delicate mother could not 
make much headway, and now she had gone to 
a German Spa and had begun to improve. 
Alice was sent to school. 

Trevor Hall was a sort of home school with 
never more than twenty-five boarders, a 
pretty, large old-fashioned country house with 
windows and sunshine everywhere. Mrs. 
Dane and Mrs. Trevor had been schoolmates 
in their youth. 

Alice was gay and eager and not self-seek- 
ing. But occasionally there was a whirlwind. 

[ 13 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


At home she had fairly danced with passion. 
But after two or three outbreaks she was a lit- 
tle ashamed. Other girls controlled their tem- 
pers. And mamma was always making sweet 
entreaties on this subject. 

Mrs. Trevor had proposed two things for 
Easter. The girls were studying botany and 
much interested. Every girl was to take a 
bulb, or slip, or seed and see how near to 
Easter she could make it bloom. It would be 
a good study of care and conditions. 

The other was an experiment in self-culture 
that called a flush to some of the faces. 

‘‘Girls,” Mrs. Trevor said smilingly, “I know 
you have often made me an Easter gift. I am 
going to make my own choice this time. I 
want every girl to write down her besetting 
sin or worst fault, and then set against it every 
time she has conquered it. Some of you are 
untidy, some indolent, a great many forgetful 
and careless, others given to exaggeration. 
Then if you will, hand them to me on Easter 

[ 14 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


Even. You know the old Jews had a scape- 
goat they sent out in the wilderness bearing 
the burthen of their sins.” 

‘‘O, but Mrs. Trevor, that would be making 
you a sort of scapegoat,” said one girl with a 
very red face. 



“No, we will put them all in the fire; that 
will be the scapegoat. And I shall be proud of 
every time a girl has conquered any bad habit. 
It will benefit you, and I shall feel that you 
were willing to make the effort for my sake.” 

[ 15 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


It was a novel endeavor. The girls really 
did try. You could see the difference in the 
school. 

May Anderson was Alice’s room-mate. In 
the large rooms with two windows there were 
two beds. May was very careless. She slung 
things about ; no other word expresses it. 
Alice was neat and orderly for a little girl. 

*Tt seems a funny gift,” said Edith Mains, 
‘*to hand over your faults — oh, if we could get 
rid of them that way.” 

“It is for the effort and discipline,” explained 
another. “I ’ve had some difficulty in telling 
things just as they happened, and I ’ve made 
trouble for myself without meaning to be 
untrue. And I find it helps me with my 
lessons.” 

“And I have been learning that most of the 
faults you indulge in add to the burthen of 
some other person. You gratify your own 
self-will.” 

As for the flowers, they had varying for- 

[IG] 


AN EASTER LILY 


tunes. Some were forgotten and dried up, 
some had too much nursing, others were left to 



take their chance. One girl had splendid luck 
with a pot of sweet alyssum that was a mass of 

2 — An Easter Lily 


AN EASTER LILY 


white bloom. There were hyacinths, crocuses, 
geraniums, primroses, and the ordinary plants 
that did not require a wide knowledge. Alice 
had chosen a Bermuda lily. They were not as 
plentiful then as now. Last Spring she had 
spent a month at Bermuda with her parents 
and had fallen in love with the sweet white 
blossoms. She had studied the soil, she had 
never neglected it a day, and it had thriven 
wonderfully. Such a stout stalk, such deep- 
green leaves and then a bud head growing 
larger and larger, showing white in their long 
points, just ready to burst open. It was almost 
like a living thing to her and somehow sug- 
gested tall, pale mamma. She put it at the 
other end of the window to catch the last rays 
of light and stood a chair a short distance away 
while she went to Mrs. Allen’s for her cloth 
skirt that had a bad tear. Mrs. Allen mended 
and sometimes made garments for the girls. 

There were two very plain rooms, a sleep- 
ing chamber and living room, neat as a new 

[ 18 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 



“ She seldom left the wheeling-chair ” 


pin. And there was little Sadie Allen, who 
years ago had been thrown out of a wagon and 
crippled so that she seldom left the wheeling- 

[ 19 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


chair. When her mother was out sewing the 
days were very long to her. 

‘‘I hope they will send me some of the 
church flowers to-morrow,’’ she said wistfully. 
‘*Or it will be Monday, I suppose, when they 
send them around to the hospital, and the 
orphans, and the old ladies. We had a gera- 
nium, but mother let it get frosted. And it 
must be just lovely to have a lot of flowers to 
keep Easter with. Why, it would be almost 
like heaven, where 

“ ‘Everlasting Spring abides 
And never withering flowers.’ ” 

Alice drew a long breath. Could she make 
an Easter offering of her firstfruits, her two 
lovely lilies that would open their white gates 
and show their golden treasures to celebrate 
the resurrection morning? No one has 
thought of poor little Sadie Allen. There 
would be more lilies out afterward, for her — 
but she should feel so proud of them all day 

[ 20 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


long. She had meant to carry it down in the 
library where the girls spent Sunday after- 
noon talking with Mrs. Trevor. 

Then she looked at the pale little girl with 
longing, wistful eyes, who had so few delights. 

“I ’ll bring you two beautiful lilies in the 
morning,” she began hurriedly, lest she should 
repent. “I don’t believe you have ever seen 
anything like them, and they are so delicately 
fragrant. You can have them all day long and 
you can imagine you are in church.” 

The child caught Alice’s hands and kissed 
them rapturously, but she could not speak, 
and then Alice bent over and kissed her and 
said good-by in a tremulous voice, hurrying 
away so moved that her own eyes were filled. 

She went to her room and hung her skirt 
in the closet, then crossed to the window. O, 
what had happened! The two big lily buds 
lay on the .floor, one had opened. Had there 
been some untoward condition loosening them 
before their time ? What was this — she picked 

[ 21 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


up a note with one corner folded, directed to 
Miss May Anderson. 

The tempest rose mountains high and she 
caught the chair to steady herself. Her tem- 
ples throbbed, the blood surged in her ears, 
she could have smashed May’s lovely vase, or 
torn to fragments the photograph she valued 
so highly. But she stood quite still. If she 
had conquered other times, could she not do 
it now? Mamma would be so glad. May 
could n’t have been so cruel as to have done 
such a deed wilfully. And now Alice remem- 
bered that May had made a great many efforts 
at carefulness. Not an article of her’s was 
lying round. She stooped and picked up her 
lilies and somehow could n’t forbear kissing 
them. Sadie could have them to-morrow 
morning all the same since they were not 
crushed or broken. Then she finished up her 
little tablet with a victory. It was better, oh 
so much better than the wild passion of anger. 
She would listen to May’s explanation and try ' 

[ 22 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


not to say one angry word. Then the supper 
bell rang. 

May Anderson had come in to put up her 
hair afresh — it was often coming down. She 
went straight to the mirror and flung her golf 
cape on the chair with such force it nearly 
toppled over, but she caught it. And then she 
saw the mischief she had done and stood 
aghast for an instant. O, what could she do! 

She was going out with Jennie King to buy 
some Easter gifts. Instead she went to the 
florist. ‘‘Every Easter lily was engaged; he 
could have sold twenty more if he had been 
smart enough to raise them.” There was 
another place and she trudged over to that. 
Not one could be had for love or money. 

“But several of mine are only hired,” the 
man said. “Now on Tuesday I could sell 
you one.” 

“Save the most beautiful one you have, and 
send it to Mrs. Trevor’s on Tuesday.” There 
was an end to all other Easter gifts, for lilies 
came high at that time. 

[ 23 ] 


'AN EASTER LILY 


She was late for supper. How lovely and 
tranquil Alice Dane looked. She was red and 
flurried. 

Then they brought their lists of endeavors 
to Mrs. Trevor. There was a grate fire in the 
library, and as Mrs. Trevor read she smiled 
and commended every one with a verse from 
the Bible, and the red flame swallowed up the 
confession. 

“He that ruleth his spirit is better than he 
who taketh a city,’^ came to Alice. How many 
times mamma had said that to her. 

Then they had a delightful talk, a sort of 
conference meeting before they said good 
night. 

“I don’t know how you can ever forgive me 
for breaking your lily,” cried May as she 
entered the room. “I never thought of it 
being in this corner. But this was your chair 
and I had no business to throw my cape over 
it. Oh, Alice, don’t keep so still. Call me 
anything! Say the worst things you can; I 

[ 24 ] 


^AN EASTER LILY 


deserve them all. Even a saint would be 
angry !” 

“I ’ve been trying,” and Alice’s voice was all 



“They had a delightful talk ” 


of a quiver. “There is no sense in having such 
a horrid temper and saying ugly, shameful 
things. I know you did not do it purposely. 

[ 25 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


You have been very careful of late. And I 
promised them away to-morrow morning to 
little Sadie Allen. See, one is all open!” 

“You are an angel!” And then the two 
girls had a little cry in each other’s arms. 

The girls all through the school were sur- 
prised that Alice should send away her lovely 
lilies, but before night another one came out. 
They all brought their flowers down and set 
them on the library table, and some were per- 
fect successes, Mrs. Trevor admitted. 

One of the happiest souls in all the town 
that day was Sadie Allen. She did not hear 
the organ tones nor the glad rejoicing hymns, 
nor see the joyous faces only as they went by 
their out-of-the-way street. But the lilies told 
her wonderful tales of the land where flowers 
bloom forever. 

“If you did n’t mind very much,” Alice said 
to May when the splendid lily came that kept 
May poor for the next fortnight, “I ’d like this 
to go to Sadie Allen. It will be your gift. 

[ 26 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


And mine will go on blooming for both of us. 
It was very generous of you to think of such a 
return.’^ 

“Oh, Miss Jane,” Sadie said afterward, “I 
never knew Easter could be so beautiful !” 


[ 27 ] 




KATHIE’S FAIRY-LAND 


J 4' 



KATHIE’S FAIRY -LAND 


KATHIE’S FAIRY-LAND 

' Kathie Alston closed 

1 W her book with a sigh ; “if there only 
were real fairies ! If one could wish 
for things and have it!” 

Then she looked around the room. It was 
altogether unlike an enchanted palace. A 
faded and well-worn carpet, cane-seat chairs, 
the chintz cover on the lounge worn at the 
edges, two or three old-fashioned pictures, and 
two women — who should have been fairy 
princesses — instead. And just then it came to 
Kathie with renewed force, how very hard 
their life was ; her mother sewing wearily day 
after day, to lengthen out their scant income, 
and poor, pale Aunt Ruth, never strong 
enough to make any great exertion in the way 
of working. If she only had a magic lamp to 
rub, or purse in which, open it often as she 

[31J 


AN EASTER LILY 


might, she would find a piece of gold, what 
splendid things she could do for her mother, 
and Aunt Ruth, and Rob, and Freddy! But 
she was only a little girl, and could not do 
anything. 

“Kathie,” her mother said presently, ‘‘you 
must go to the store; and now it is so dark, 
you will not have time to run up to Mrs. 
Grayson’s.’’ 

Kathie started. Why, the clock was strik- 
ing five, and the room was already in a haze of 
twilight. She had been reading just an hour 
and a half. Twice her mother had spoken to 
her about going to Mrs. Grayson’s, and she 
had intended to after she read just that page ; 
and so she had gone on and on. 

“Can’t I do it in the morning, mamma?” 
she asked, soberly, a little troubled in her con- 
science. 

“No; it would make you late for school. 
I ’ll go this evening. Run to the store now, 
and remember all the things I tell you. Look 
if you see the boys, and call them in.” 

[ 32 ] 


KATHIE^S FAIRY -LAND 


Her mother's tired and tender voice touched 
her, for Kathie had a warm, generous heart. 

“O mamma! I wish I was a fairy, for your 
sake;" and Kathie clasped her arms around 



her mother's neck, kissing her fondly, in a 
repentant mood. 

“There are many kinds of fairies," Mrs. 
Alston said. “They don't all live in enchanted 

3 — An Easter Lily 


'AN EASTER LILY 


palaces.” Then she gave Kathie the basket 
and some money, and repeated the list of 
articles she needed. 

The little girl trudged along in the cold, 
thinking of all the wonderful things that might 
be done if one had the power; and then won- 
dered what her mother meant by saying there 
were different kinds of fairies. Of course, no 
one really believed in them, charming as the 
stories were. Money could do a great many 
things that seemed almost like magic ; but she 
had no money, perhaps never would have. 
Little girls could n’t earn any, and women 
never became rich. When Rob and Freddy 
grew to be men — but that was a long way off. 

There was a bright little star twinkling up in 
the sky. It looked so oddly at her out of its 
one golden eye that she could n’t help saying, 
“O you lovely fairy star!” and somehow it 
seemed as if the fairies were not all dead. But 
she was at the store before she knew it, went 
in and made her purchases, and started for 

[ 34 ] 



“ She gave Kathie the basket ” 





KATHIE^S FAIRY -LAND 


home, watching the same beautiful star until 
she came in sight of the cottage. Then she 
drew a long breath of dismay. Mamma had 
put a little tin pail in the bottom of the basket, 
and told her to leave it at the baker’s going, 
and stop for it coming back. 

‘‘O dear!” sighed Kathie, ‘T ought to have 
a fairy named Memory;” and for an instant 
she felt tempted to cry. Should she go home 
first, or carry the heavy basket back to the 
baker’s?” 

“Back to the baker’s,” said the star, though 
I think it was a fairy inside of the little girl 
called Conscience. 

“It will teach me a lesson, for I am heed- 
less;” and she turned round instantly. Then 
at the baker’s she had to take nearly all of the 
things out of the basket, and afterward she 
hurried home, to make up for lost time. 

“How quick you have been,” her mother 
said, with a smile. Kathie, like other children 
was sometimes given to loitering. “Did you 
see the boys?” 


[ 37 ] 


'AN EASTER LILY 


“Oh! I forgot, mamma; but I did n’t see 
them nor hear them. I ’ll go look for them.” 

Looking for the boys was one of Kathie’s 
hardships. It was n’t pleasant to go out in the 
cold and hunt round for them; the star up in 
the blue sky seemed to challenge her to a race, 
and in a few seconds she had reached the hill 
where the boys coasted. Rob knew it was n’t 
supper-time, and did n’t want to come in. 

She took Freddy by the hand, and then 
Charley Darrell wanted her to try just once on 
his new Christmas sled, but she declined 
cheerfully, though it was something of a 
struggle to put the temptation by. Rob soon 
followed them. 

“I mean to tease mother to let me go out 
again to-night,” he exclaimed. “All the boys 
will be there.” 

“Rob,” Kathie said, with her heart in her 

throat, “I wish you ’d do something partly for 
« 

me instead.” 

“What.^” rather crossly. 

[ 38 ] 


KATHIE^S FAIRY -LAND 


“Mamma will have to go to Mrs. Grayson’s 
this evening, and I wish you would go with 
her. It will make the walk seem shorter, and 
it is my fault, for I read in my fairy book this 
afternoon when I should have gone.” 

“Bother! I wish you ’d attend to your own 
business.” 

“I ’m very sorry, Rob,” with an effort. “You 
may have my paint-box on the first rainy 
day.” 

Rob said nothing then, and ate his supper 
rather soberly. Afterward Kathie proposed 
washing the dishes, so that her mother might 
go immediately. Mrs. Alston looked pleased, 
-'and put on her shawl. 

“I ’m going along, so that no one will run 
away with you,” Rob announced, ’with an 
assumption of manliness. 

“Are you? O ! thank you.” 

Then Freddy thought he ought to go, 
though the warm room and the warm tea had 
made him look rather sleepy; besides he was 

[ 39 ] 


^AN EASTER LILY 


too small a boy to take such a tramp after 
supper. 

“I ’ll put you to bed and tell you a story,” 
Kathie whispered as the others went away. 

Kathie hated washing dishes, but she went 
at it cheerfully now. It was surprising how 
soon she seemed to get through. Then she 
brushed up the room, drew Aunt Ruth’s chair 
up to the table — for she was an almost help- 
less invalid — and found all her sewing mate- 
rials. Fred was nodding in the corner by this 
time, and was rather cross when she roused 
him, but by the time she had him snugly 
tucked in bed he remembered the story. She 
wrapped a shawl around her, and commenced 
in a bright, happy voice. 

“Why,* you ’re almost a fairy yourself,” Fred 
said presently, and a warm glow came to her 
face as she recalled her mother’s words. 

She could n’t transport them all to an ele- 
gant palace, she could not surround them with 
luxury, not have servants come at her call, but 

[ 40 ] 


KATHIE^S FAIRY -LAND 


she began to think of the real fairies there 
were in the world — love, to begin with, a spirit 
who was tender, patient, self-sacrificing, never 
cross when things went wrong, never indo- 



“ Kathie hated washing dishes” 


lent when others around could be saved any 
toil or burden. 

“Oh!” she said, with a sigh, “I can never be 
such a fairy;” and she felt very humble. “But 
I will try to do a little.” 

[ 41 ] 


^AN EASTER LILY 


“.What are you looking for?” Aunt Ruth 
said, as she entered the sitting-room. 

“Rob told mamma his mittens wanted mend- 
ing, and I thought I could do it;” and so she 
did, darning very well for a little girl ; and she 
was very glad the next morning when she 
heard Rob remind mamma that she had for- 
gotten all about his mittens. 

Rob came home in a state of felicity. 

“I had a splendid talk with Dick Grayson,” 
he said, “and he is n’t half so proud as the boys 
make out, although he does go to the Acad- 
emy. He asked me to come over some even- 
ing ; and, oh ! Kathie, he has such lots of books, 
and a little study all by himself, where he reads 
and tries experiments, and his father is so 
pleasant and kind. Mrs. Grayson praised me 
for not letting mamma go out alone, and I 
wanted to tell her that it was your thought, 
not mine. I ought to do it always. And, 
Kathie, I shall not want the paints — at least, 
not for pay.” 


[ 42 ] 


KATHIE^S FAIRY -LAND 


“You can have them to paint your boat/’ 
she rejoined, yielding of her own free will a 
point that she had refused Rob several times. 

“You ’re a darling,” exclaimed Rob, boy 
fashion. 

She took a long look at the star before she 
went to bed. Did it never get tired shining 
steadily on and on? Did n’t it want to go to 
some other place, or do something else — 
become a sun, or moon for instance, as any 
little boy or girl would in its place? God 
wanted it just to shine, and it did its duty. And 
He wanted her to be a helpful little girl, or else 
He would have given her a beautiful house, 
plenty of servants, and plenty of money, and 
nothing to do. There were princesses in the 
fairy stories who had everything they called 
for, but the real fairies ran to and fro, did as 
they were bidden, and never complained of the 
hard work: and a little while ago she was 
wishing to be a fairy. One of the working 
kind it must be. 


[ 43 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


Kathie did not forget her resolves the next 
morning. I don’t mean you to think that she 
did everything without a bit of trouble, and 
that it was easy for her to give up her own 
wishes and pleasures. Sometimes it seemed 
very hard, and it was difficult to think in time, 
even when she was quite willing to perform a 
good action; but she remembered the star 
going on and on, and prayed for strength, for 
love, instead of wishing for idle things no one 
can ever have. 

But one day, a long while after this, some- 
thing just like a fairy-story did happen to 
Kathie. Coming home from school, she found 
a tall, foreign-looking gentleman in the sitting- 
room, talking very familiarly to her mother 
and Aunt Ruth. Cousin Robert they called 
him ; and then Kathie remembered the stories 
she had heard of Cousin Robert going to China 
years and years ago. He took her up on his 
knee and studied her face. 

‘‘What a charming little fairy you are!” he 

[ 44 ] 


KATHIE^S FAIRY -LAND 



said, kissing her, and the warm color came to 
her cheeks. “I think I shall spirit you away to 

[ 45 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


a palace I am going to have, and if your 
mother and Aunt Ruth ever want to see you 
again, they must come, too.” 

It was n’t a palace exactly, but a delightful 
home, and Cousin Robert insisted upon their 
sharing it with him, as he was all alone in the 
world. Mrs. Alston grew young and rosy 
again when relieved from the necessity of con- 
stant toil, and Aunt Ruth, always sweet and 
patient, enjoyed many things in the new life. 
But Kathie gave a wonderful charm to the 
household. She did not forget the lessons she 
had learned in adversity, and I think she 
proved a fairy to many outside of her home 
circle. Rob and Fred always thought her the 
dearest little body in the world. 


[ 46 ] 


HOW BEN HEWES FOUND SANTA 

CLAUS 




HOW BEN FOUND SANTA CLAUS 


HOW BEN HEWES FOUND SANTA CLAUS 

I T had come to be pretty hard lines with 
I us, you see. The gov’ner had never 
held up his head, so to speak, since the 
accident on his train. He had been 
switch-tender at North Lumberton Junction 
for years and years, and I do say he was n’t to 
blame for the accident then; but big ’uns 
always do crowd out little ’uns. The way it 
was — there was an extry, you see, going up, 
a ’xcursion train, and no one had telegraphed 
a sound. The reg’lar train had gone up, the 
down was coming in about ten minutes. Gov- 
’ner went out and fixed the switch, and stood 
there with the flag in his hand looking up, 
when something come a thundering along 
right back of him. 

“‘Switch right?” sung out some one. 

“Gov’ner jumped and was blind confused. 

4 — An Easter Lily [49] 



AN EASTER LILY. 


The train ran right off and smashed into a lot 
of coal cars standing there. It was a mercy 
he was n’t killed. 

‘‘ T would n’t so much minded bein’ killed at 
my post, like that chap you was readin’ about 
t’ other day,’ he said to me, privately after- 
ward. ‘But if I had been killed, I never 
could a’ told the truth ’bout myself, though 
nobody ’ll ever write verses ’bout me.’ 

“If I ’d had a gift that way, and known any 
newspaper man, I ’d a done it myself. 

“ ’T was n’t so bad as it might ha’ been. 
Smoking car was about empty, engineer give 
a spring, but, my! did n’t they go to flinders! 
Four killed, and lots of ’em hurt, and there was 
an awful time ! There was an inquest and tes- 
timony ’bout everything. The real truth was 
— telegram was n’t quite soon enough ; but the 
railroad people would n’t allow that. They 
compared watches and wrangled and talked, 
and smoothed matters over for everybody but 
the gov’ner, and he was marched off to jail. 

[ 50 ] 


HO W BEN FO UND SANTA CL A US 


“Poor Mammy almost broke her heart. She 
was the gov’ner’s second wife. He had some 
sons, I Ve heard him say, who_were well-to-do 
men, but they ’d forgot all about him. 
Mammy ’d had three children — Jack, who was 



“ ‘ Went out and fixed the switch ’ ” 


off at sea ; Kitty, who 'd met with an accident 
and was lame ; and me. My name ’s Benjamin 
Franklin Hewes, but for short they always 
call me Ben. Mammy used to read to me on 
Sundays ’bout Joseph an’ his brethren, and 
how the old gov’ner loved Benjamin, and they 

[ 51 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


found the king’s cup in his sack o’ corn. But 
he come out all right in the end, and I know it 
give Mammy a good deal of faith ’bout me. 

“Well, my gov’ner had a hard time of it. A 
man come and told Mammy that it would be 
better for him to stay in jail awhile till folks 
forgot; so they kept putting off his trial, and 
bime-by they sort o’ let him go with a lecture, 
but it riled the old man awfully. It was the 
dead of winter, and he could n’t do anything 
more at North Lumberton, because, you see, it 
was n’t made plain, and all hands thought him 
to blame. 

“So we come to the city. We managed 
through the summer, but in the fall the gov- 
’ner was taken to his bed. Mother and Kitty 
sewed, but there was n’t much made by that, 
and I was on the lookout for all the odd jobs 
I could find. When a chap begins to go down 
hill seems as if ’t was always freezin’ weather 
and slippery, an’ he slides and slides with 
nothing to catch hold of, till he gets away 

[ 52 ] 


HOW BEN FO UND SANTA CLAUS 


down to the bottom. I see some good chances 
to get established if I ’d had five dollars or so, 
but I never did. And them that ’s regular and 
fortunate sometimes forget how it was with 
themselves in the beginning. 

‘‘Just after Thanksgiving the chap at Mam- 
my’s shop busted. He was owing her five dol- 
lars, and the loss come mighty hard. There 
would n’t be anything more for weeks and 
weeks, for ’t was a dull winter, and people 
began to talk about soup-houses then. 

“ ‘Maybe I might get a few days’ washing,’ 
said Mammy. ‘I ’ll speak to the neighbors 
’round.’ 

“ ‘I don’t know what we are going to do,’ 
put in Kitty. 

“She was a kind of pretty little thing, with 
big brown eyes and yellow hair that curled in 
a slow way and somehow looked like her pale 
face, not being crisp and kinky like some curly 
hair. Now and then I ’ve seen just such a pic- 
ture in a window, with a hungry look about it 

[ 53 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


as if the poor soul wanted something that 
was n’t meat nor drink. She kept a hankering 
after the little garden we had at Junction, and 
the green fields all about. But it seemed to me 
that she looked peekeder than ever now. 

“I remember, just as if it was yesterday, 
’bout that Sunday before Christmas. I ’d had 
a streak of luck Sat’day night selling in the 
market. 

‘‘ *There ’s the rent,’ says Mammy, when I 
come home. *We must n’t touch a cent of it 
this week, so as to be sure.’ 

“It was cold and stormy on Sunday. I went 
down to the mission-school after dinner, and 
most of the talk was ’bout Christmas, and the 
Lord being born in a manger, and how poor 
and humble he was; and how that every one 
ought to do some good deed at Christmas, if 
never any other time ; and how the Lord took 
these things as sort of birthday gifts to him- 
self, and remembered every one, no matter 
how small it was. I ’d often thought I ’d like 

[ 54 ] 


HOW BEN FO UND SANTA CL A US 


to be rich and send poor people tons of coal, 
and blankets, and a turkey perhaps, or some- 
thing good; but I knew I never should be. 

“I was telling them all about it in the even- 
ing, and then Kitty and me began to look over 
the pictures in Mammy’s big Bible, that was — 
I don’t know how old. We stopped at ‘Joseph 
being sold by his brethren,’ and Kitty read 
the story over again, and how Joseph forgave 
them when he came to be a great king, and 
brought his father to Egypt so ’s he might n’t 
starve to death. 

“The gov’ner was a layin’ on his bed, and he 
gave a great sigh. 

“ ‘They don’t do so nowadays,’ he said. 
‘They go off and forget. I ’ve three likely sons 
out in the new countries, with flocks, an’ 
herds, an’ wives, an’ children, but it ’s many a 
long year since any of ’em has asked if I was 
alive. An’ I s’pose bime-by Jack will be like 
’em.’ 

“ ‘But Ben won’t,’ said Kitty, softly. ‘He 

will be like this one; won’t you, Ben?’ 

[ 55 ] 


'AN EASTER LILY 


“'You may bet your life on that/ says I. 
'Gov’ner, you cheer up a bit. I Ve got a good 
name, and I won’t go back on it. Maybe I ’ll 
see an opening ’tween this and spring, and 
you ’ll come out like a lark some warm day. 
Somehow it seems to me as if this Christmas 
was going to do something for us.’ 

“ 'O,’ said Kitty, with a great glow in her 
eyes, 'if there only was a real Santa Claus ! Or 
if we could have three wishes!’ 

''And then we planned what we would wish 
for, and afterward Mammy asked us to sing. 
Kitty knew some carols, she was a master 
hand to remember, and the gov’ner said he 
did n’t believe it was much better out on the 
plains of Judee where the shepherds kept 
watch. But it was, you know, though it was 
just as well for him to think he had some of 
the very best. 

''On Tuesday, it was, I see one of them 
lucky chances for a little speculation, and I run 
home to Mammy for a few dollars. 

[ 56 ] 


HOW BEN FOUND SANTA CLAUS 


“ ‘O, Ben/ she said, ‘I Ve just paid it away. 
Mr. McCann came in this morning and asked 
if I had the rent handy. He wanted to use 
some money, and was hard up.’ 

‘It ’s a mean shame !’ and I was mad as a 
hen in a brush fence. ‘He could n’t collect it 
anyhow until the first, and here it ’s only the 
23d. And if I only had two dollars I know I 
could double it to-day and again to-morrow.’ 

“ ‘I ’m so sorry, Ben. But then you might 
a’ lost it, and we ’ve a roof over our heads for 
all January.’ 

“ ‘Well, it can’t be helped,’ and I started off 
again. There was another fellow standing by 
to take the chance. What could I do? The 
ground was frozen up as dry as a chip, and 
there was no boots to black except for the 
reg’lars. I put in a ton of coal, and that was 
every living thing I found to do that day. 

“I ’d had my eye on a paper route for ever so 
long, but it did just seem as if I never could 
get money enough together again for any- 

[ 57 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


thing. And all the streets were looking gay 
and the stores and markets trimmed up with 
evergreens. How jolly every one seemed! 

“Next day luck was dead against me again. 
Seventy-five cents was all I made. Not a 
stiver for Christmas ! I ’d seen so many things 
I wanted to buy Kitty, and I wanted a chicken 

4 

to make some broth for the gov’ner. I began 
to wonder if it was all true what the man said 
on Sunday. Was there a great Lord up in 
heaven who knew all about cold, and hunger, 
and had no place to lay his head, and was at 
last given up to the cruel Jews to be put to 
death? 

“ ‘That ’s a sight worse than you, Ben 
Hewes,’ I said. And then I ran round looking 
at the gay shop-windows, and listening to the 
fun and laughs, and now and then a church 
bell ringing. If Kitty had been strong enough 
to go with me it would have been quite a little 
Christmas feast. But it was a awful cold 
night. I had an armful of evergreens, for you 

[ 58 ] 


HOW BEN FOUND SANTA CLAUS 


see I did n’t dare spend any of my money 
buying Christmas. I was turning round a cor- 
ner when I saw something huddled up on the 
step like a great dog. If I was rich I should 
have some dogs, I do like ’em so. I went to 
pat the shaggy fellow, but when I put out my 
hand I found it was n’t a dog at all. 

‘‘ ‘Lemme be,’ said the little kid, jerking 
away. ‘I ’m nice and warm in this corner, and 
I was ’most asleep.’ 

“ ‘But you ’ll freeze here,’ I said. ‘You had 
better go to the station-house.’ 

“ ‘No,’ and he began to cry. ‘I run away 
from a peeler. I don’t want to go to the Island. 
I want to get up to the heaven where Betty ’s 
gone, and where the good Lord takes care of 
little boys like me. I have n’t had a mouthful 
all day ’cept the good smell over there, and the 
man kicked me away. Does it take long to 
freeze?’ 

“‘Why, Jemmy Arno, is it you?’ and I 
dragged him out to the light. Sure enough! 

[ 59 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


And his teeth were chattering as if they ’d 
been strung on wires. 

“The little kid did n’t know me. He blinked 
out of his great black eyes, and then began to 
whimper. I knew where he had lived, and 
this Betty Arno used to keep a peanut stand. 

“ Ts Betty dead?’ says I. 

“‘Yes; and the woman turned me out o’ 
doors, and would n’t let me take the box Betty 
gave me. O, dear! I ’m so cold — so cold.’ 

“I thought of what the man said at the mis- 
sion-school. Maybe this was my Christmas! 
If doing for such a little chap was just the same 
as doing for the great Lord, and if He ’d say 
at the last, ‘Ben Hewes, I saw you that Christ- 
mas Eve, when you was too poor to send gifts 
to anybody, taking that half-starved little 
shaver in out of the cold, and I put it down in 
my ’count, and it ’s just as good as a rich man’s 
deed.’ So says I, ‘Come along. Jemmy. I ’ll 
give you a nice warm corner to sleep in, and a 
mouthful of supper. It ’s Christmas Eve, you 
know. Trot up brisk now.’ 

[ 60 ] 



** * Why, Jemmy Arno, is it you ? ’ ” 





HOW BEN FOUND SANTA CLAUS 


‘‘The poor little chap was crying and talking 
all in one breath, and wanting to sit down on 
every stoop, but I kept him up. ‘Here we are,* 
says I, opening the door. 

“ ‘O Ben, what has kept you so late?* cries 
Kitty; and then in the next breath, ‘What a 
splendid lot of greens.’ 

“ ‘And something else,* says I. ‘Santa 
Claus.’ 

“ ‘Why, Ben !* says Mammy. ‘Where did 
you pick up this poor thing?* 

“ ‘O don’t send me to the station-house nor 
the Island,* cries he, looking frightened out of 
his great eyes. ‘I never stole anything, nor 
sweared, and I *m so cold. O, is it nice and 
warm in heaven? Betty said it was.* 

“ ‘Come to the fire, poor creetur,* says 
Mammy. 

“I told her ’bout Betty Arno and her peanut- 
stand, and how that I had n’t seen her for as 
much as a month, and Jemmy said she was 
dead. And then how I had found him this bit- 

163 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


ter cold night, and I wanted to keep him, just 
as if it had been the great Lord. 

“ *And we ’ll have some Christmas after all,’ 
says Kitty, ‘only not like rich folks.’ 

“Mammy was afraid he was froze, so I 
brought in some snow and rubbed his ears, 
and nose, and his hands. Then Mammy 
washed him and set him by the stove to warm 
and dry, and give him a little broth first. My 
eyes! was n’t the kid hungry! If he ’d staid 
out in the cold all night I guess he ’d found a 
short road to heaven sure. 

“ ‘Maybe ’t would a’ been better,’ said 
Mammy. ‘Poor little lambs! I like to think 
God is glad to have them. But we ’ll do the 
best we can, now. Y ou must run out and buy 
us a little dinner for to-morrow, Ben. A bit 
of beef to stew, I guess, and a few potatoes.’ 

“I went down to the butcher’s. He was hard 
run just then, and asked me to take out a 
basket to a customer, and afterward another. 
I picked out what I wanted and he weighed it. 

[ 64 ] 


HOW BEN FOUND SANTA CLAUS 


‘Thirty-five cents/ says he, ‘but if you ’d like 
to change, Ben, I ’ll let you have this chicken. 
The skin ’s broken and it does n’t look quite so 
fair; but it ’s fresh, and a nice plump fellow. 
Call it square for the errands.’ 

“ ‘Thank ’ee,’ says I, ‘and a merry Christ- 
mas in the bargain.’ 

“ ‘Lots of ’em to you, Ben.’ 

“I run off home glad enough, I tell you, 
feeling like a morning star. 

“ ‘Hooray,’ says I, opening the door. ‘Christ- 
mas is begun and no mistake. What do you 
think of that.’ 

“The gov’ner was as pleased as a baby, and 
Mammy laughed with tears in her eyes. Then 
Kitty and I sung some rousing carols. The 
little chap was sound asleep. 

“The baker sent Kitty a cake next day ; and 
altogether it was n’t so bad a Christmas, only 
the little kid, he grew sicker ’n sicker. Gov- 
’ner said we ought to send him to the hospital ; 
but somehow Kitty she took a wonderful fancy 

[ 65 ] 


5 — An Easter Lily 


^AN EASTER LILY 


to him, and Mammy was a master hand at 
nursing. Then, too, during the next week I 
had a streak of luck, and made five dollars, and 
Mammy had a pile of sewing to do for a 
neighbor. 

‘‘ ‘Seems as though the little thing had 
brought us good fortune,’ Kitty said, with a 
bright smile. ‘O, Ben, you ought to hear the 
wonderful things he talks of when the fever ’s 
on him. Gardens, and flowers, and birds, and 
a beautiful house and a papa. Was Betty Amo 
his grandmother, really?’ 

“ T s’pose so,’ I said. ‘He was always a nice 
little chap and did n’t play much with the 
street cubs. P’raps he will tell us all about it 
when he gets well.’ 

“Mammy managed to get the fever broke in 
about two weeks, but he was as weak as a 
baby. He ’d lie there on two chairs, listening to 
Kitty as she sung, and begging her to tell him 
stories. Gov’ner took a queer liking to him as 
well. We did n’t call him anything but Santa 

[ 66 ] 


HOW BEN FO UND SANTA CLAUS 


Claus. One day Kitty told him what he talked 
about when he was sick. 

‘‘ ‘It ’s all true/ he said. ‘I used to live in 
the house, my Mammy and I, and she had 
pretty light curls like Kitty, and oh, such beau- 



tiful blue eyes. She used to wear silk dresses 
and had a gold watch and rings, and papa used 
to come and give her heaps of money. But one 
day Mammy took me and went away, and we 
never went back to the splendid house, and 

[ 67 ] 



AN EASTER LILY 


papa did not come any more. She just grew 
whiter and whiter, and when old Betty come 
she went to heaven and left me with granny. 
And that ’s a long, long while ago, when I was 
a little boy.’ 

‘‘Mammy shook her head. ‘I dare say 
there ’s been some sorry work about it. 
There ’s a many sad things in this world.’ 

“ ‘Don’t you believe it ’s true?’ 

“ ‘It ’s true enough,’ said Mammy, with a 
sigh. 

“Times began to get pretty hard with us 
again. Feb’uary was cornin’ on and no rent. 
’T was always paid in advance, you see, or 
else you had to march. Old McCann came in 
and made a row. ‘If you don’t have it to-mor- 
row at twelve, out you go,’ says he. ‘Y ou can 
borrow it of some friend, I know.’ 

“We had a little bread and ’lasses for sup- 
per that night. I made believe I was n’t a bit 
hungry, and kept feeding the little kid, ’cause 
I did n’t know what would happen to him or 

[ 68 ] 


HOW BEN FOUND SANTA CLAUS 


any of us to-morrow. You see, not being 
brought up in the city, I was n’t used to all 
the dodges and ways of getting along. 

‘‘ ‘Well, you took him in and give him a 
good Christmas,’ says Kitty, ‘and we won’t be 
sorry, for he did bring us a little luck. Only 
I can’t bear to think of turning him out again.’ 

“Just then there was a knock at the door. 
I opened it, and two men stood there. 

“‘Is little Jemmy Arno here?’ says one of 
’em. 

“With that he run and hid his head in 
Mammy’s lap. 

“ ‘Oh,’ he screamed, ‘it ’s a peeler; don’t let 
him take me! I won’t go to the Island; I ’ll 
run away and drown.’ 

“ ‘We don’t want anybody to go to the 
Island,’ said the p’liceman. ‘Tell the truth, for 
it ’s all good news, little cove. You ’re about 
the luckiest chap I ever heard tell of.’ 

“ ‘Is this the boy?’ and the other man picked 
Jem up in his arms and turned him to the light. 

[ 69 ] 


'AN EASTER LILY 


‘Oh,’ he says in a kind o’ cryin’ tone, ‘I should 
know them eyes anywhere. My good woman, 
I never can repay you for shelterin’ this little 
boy. He ’s my grandson.’ 

“With that the gov’ner came out and 
dropped in a chair. 

“ ‘Somehow,’ says he, ‘he never seemed like 
a common child. But we must know the truth 
and your claim before you take him away from 
here.’ 

“I declare I was so proud of the gov’ner for 
that speech that I could have cheered. 

“They sat down and talked. I don’t know ’s 
I Ve got that story straight in my head to this 
day, but ’t was something like this: The old 
gent’s son married a pretty actress, who was 
Betty Arno’s daughter, but he kept mighty 
still about it to his folks. Somehow after 
awhile they quarrelled, and he told her she 
was n’t his wife. With that she run away, 
taking her little kid, and when she was ’most a 
dying she sent for her mother, old Betty, and 

[ 70 ] 


HOW BEN FO UND SANTA CLAUS 


told her the story, and gave Jem to her, and a 
box of papers. That was more ’n two years 
before. And now Jem’s father was dead, and 
there ’d come a great fortune for him and his 
heirs, which was little Jem here. They ’d 
found where Betty died, and they ’d taken the 
box from the woman who turned Jem out of 
doors, and found letters and a ’stificate which 
proved all about him. And now for a month 
they ’d been hunting up Jem. Mammy ’d told 
a neighbor about my bringing of him home 
a’most starved and frozen, and how sick he ’d 
been, and she happened to see the stir about it 
in a paper, with a reward offered, so she went 
and told the old gent the news. 

“ ‘Jem,’ says he, T ’m your grandfather. 
Your poor papa died a loving you, and sorry 
enough that he ’d ever been so cruel. And 
now you must come home with me, and I ’ll 
try to bring you up to be a good man, and you 
must love me in my old days.’ 

‘‘ ‘Ah,’ says the gov’ner, ‘they don’t always 

[ 71 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


do that, unless they ’re like Ben here. I Ve 
three likely sons that I have n’t heard from in 
ten years, or more.’ 

‘‘So the old gent thanked Mammy again and 
again, and said so much to me that I was red 
as a beet in the face. But, would you believe, 
the little kid would n’t stir a step with them 
without Kitty, and . Mammy begged ’em to 
wait until to-morrow. 

“Well, they went away after awhile, and we 
talked and cried, even to the gov’ner, who was 
quite knocked up about it. Jem seemed to 
care the least of any one, but then he did n’t 
understand all ’t was goin’ to be to him. 

“But was n’t there a jolly lark the next 
morning ! Old McCann was there ordering us 
out of the house, just as the carriage stopped. 
You should a’ seen his face then. It was as 
good as a picture by Nast. He cooled down 
quicker ’n ’lasses candy in a heap of snow. The 
old gent paid the rent, and told him we did n’t 
want the place any more; and, sure enough, 

[ 72 ] 



“ ‘ The old gent paid the rent ' ” 





HOW BEN FOUND SANTA CLAUS 


before twelve that day we went out, bag and 
baggage, which was n’t saying much, after all. 

“Well, the upshot of it all is I ’ve got about 
as nice a paper stand as you ’d want to see. 
We keep pens, and writing-paper, and notions, 
and I ’ve a morning route. I ’m first president 
and the gov’ner ’s cashier, an’ you never saw 
a prouder man. We have three rooms back of 
the store, and Mammy keeps house there like 
a queen. 

“Kitty is living with Mr. Walsingham and 
Jemmy, ’though his real name is Eugene. 
They would n’t give her up. You see the old 
gent felt as if we had saved Jemmy’s life, and I 
do suppose the little kid would a’ froze to 
death that night if I had n’t taken him home. 
So he felt as if he could n’t do enough for us, 
but the gov’ner and I — we ’ve got our pride, 
too. 

“Kitty lives like a princess in a palace. She 
takes care of Jem’s clothes, and dusts up the 
parlors, and is studying music, for they all 

[ 75 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


think she has a stunning voice. She conies to 
see us in a carriage, and though the gov’ner 
laughs, I see him wipe his eyes with his coat- 
sleeve, as though there was a little something 
besides fun in it. 

‘‘You better believe that I put faith in Santa 
Claus and Christmas ! Why, the year could n’t 
keep house without them. The gov’ner and I 
hang up our stockings, and get ’em full, too. 
It ’s curi’s, but always on Christmas Eve I 
take a little run round just after dark, and look 
on store steps, and in dry goods boxes, and 
sometimes I find a little chap cold and hungry, 
and I make believe for a moment that I ’m 
Santa Claus. It ’s just jolly, I tell you! And 
when the stars shine out I think of the plain of 
Judee, and the shepherds hearing the great 
song that all the world goes on singing, so that 
it can never be quite forgotten. And so Merry 
Christmas to everybody from Ben Hewes.” 


[ 76 ] 


GRACE’S HOLIDAY 




GRACE'S HOLIDAY 


GRACE’S HOLIDAY 

A SPLENDID long holiday!” Grace 
/-% Howard exclaimed, rushing across 
the porch, fairly out of breath. 
‘‘Some important business calls Miss 
Johnson away to-morrow, and we girls have 
been planning such a nice time. Jennie Carl- 
ton has asked us to her house to dinner, and 
then we are going to the woods on a picnic.’’ 

“I thought you did n’t like Jennie Carlton 
very well,” Mrs. Howard rejoined. 

Grace colored. There was a sort of chronic 
difference between the two. 

“I don’t like her as well as some of the girls, 
but we have made up good friends. And when 
she asked me — it ’s to be quite a select party,” 
and Grace put a peculiar emphasis upon the 
word. 

“That is what I object to the most. If all 

[ 79 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


the school-girls were going to the woods, I 
should expect you to have a pleasant time. 
But choosing some six or eight because their 
parents are wealthy seems too exclusive for 
such an occasion. I do not feel at all compli- 
mented by having you invited.” 

‘‘But I do want to go. My holiday will be 
just spoiled if I have to stay at home;” and 
Grace’s pretty face looked ready for tears. 

“Perhaps you might decide upon some bet- 
ter way of spending it,” replied her mother. 
“I am going to drive to Aunt Ellen’s in the 
afternoon, and had thought of taking you. 
Mrs. Dean was over here this morning, and 
said that Alice was wishing very much to see 
you. She seems to be failing, her mother 
fancies. Half a day would finish your book, 
would n’t it?” 

“I ’ll do that positively on Saturday,” Grace 
said; “or I might go a little while on Friday 
afternoon. O dear! I shall be glad when it is 
through.” 


[ 80 ] 


GRACE'S HOLIDAY 



“ ‘ I thought you did n’t like Jennie Carlton ’ ” 

‘‘You know it was your own desire,” Mrs. 
Howard rejoined. “And it has been such a 
pleasure to Alice.” 

Grace twisted the fringe of the table-cover 

6 — An Easter Lily [ 81 ] 


AN EASTER LIEY 


with a misgiving that she was not in a very 

* 

amiable frame of mind. A day or two surely 
would n’t make any difference to Alice Dean, 
but to give up a whole day’s pleasure for that ! 

Grace Howard had a good many generous 
impulses, but, one way and another, her under- 
takings often failed before reaching comple- 
tion. She had received for her birthday pres- 
ent a handsome set of story-books, in which 
she had been wonderfully interested, and pro- 
posed to read them aloud to blind Alice Dean, 
who was an invalid besides. Mrs. Dean had to 
work hard to support herself and child, and 
'-found but little time to devote to her amuse- 
ment. Grace’s clear, sweet voice gave them a 
keener charm to the sensitive child. At first 
she had done very well, it must be confessed, 
but the last book dragged along, when Grace 
began to think it almost a burthen. 

‘‘Can’t I go?” she asked presently. “I shall 
be so disappointed.” 

“I believe your days with Jennie Carlton 

[ 82 ] 


GRACE^S HOLIDAY 


have always been failures ; still I will not com- 
pel you to give up this one. Think it over 
before you decide.” 

Grace’s face brightened immediately, which 
showed that there was to be very little consid- 
eration. Just now she was intent upon her 
own pleasure. Jennie had urged her strongly, 
and somehow Grace always felt flattered by 
Jennie Carlton’s notice. They lived in a grand 
house, and Jennie held herself above most of 
the school-girls. Mr. Carlton and Mr. Howard 
being very warm personal friends, Mrs. How- 
ard had found it impossible to regulate the 
intercourse of the children without giving 
offence, and Mr. Howard indulged his little 
girl in almost every whim. But it frequently 
happened that Grace was hardly upon speak- 
ing terms with Jennie, for the latter gave her 
an occasional rebuff that was not easy to bear. 

Grace thought of nothing but the pleasure 
now. She was all impatience for the hour to 
come, and set off to Jennie’s in high spirits. 

[ 83 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


The woods were on Mr. Carlton’s place, about 
half a mile from the house, and there could be 
no possible danger to the party. 

‘T hope you will have a nice day,” Mrs. 
Howard said, kissing her. “And when 
you return from the woods, come home 
immediately.” 

Grace promised. As she walked across the 
lawn to Mr. Carlton’s, she saw two strange 
figures in the little group — a girl, taller than 
Jennie, and a boy older still. And then she 
looked at her printed cambric in dismay. Jen- 
nie wore her braided pique and an elegant 
sash, while she had on an ordinary school- 
dress. The young lady stared at her supercil- 
iously; and when Jennie introduced her as her 
cousin, Grace remembered having seen her at 
church once. They had just arrived an hour 
or so ago. For a moment Grace felt half 
inclined to excuse herself and return home. 
The drive with her mother would be pleasant, 
and it was always nice at Aunt Ellen’s. But 

[ 84 ] 


GRACE^S HOLIDAY 


she felt a little ashamed to confess her mistake 
so soon. 

The rest of the girls came presently. They 
all laughed and talked, went to Jennie’s play- 
room, and looked over the dolls and books and 
curious toys, and then Mrs. Carlton summoned 
them to lunch. After that began the prepara- 
tion for going to the woods. Mrs. Carlton 
told them she thought they had better stay 
around the house and amuse themselves by 
playing croquet and other games ; but Jennie’s 
cousin Horace whispered to her that he 
thought it a bore. 

They started off presently, with a servant 
to carry some luggage for them. It was a 
warm walk to the woods, but, once there, they 
found it cool and shady. They amused them- 
selves awhile with play, and then Horace won- 
dered if they could n’t find something better 
to do. 

“Where ’s uncle’s boat?” he asked. “I might 
give you all a sail.” 


[ 85 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


“O splendid!” exclaimed Jennie. “Let us 
go down to the river;” and she and Horace 
headed the party. “What are you lagging for, 
Grace Howard?” 

“I think we ought not,” Grace said with 
sudden courage. “Mamma would n’t like it.” 

“What a baby! You had better go back if 
you are afraid.” 

“Pooh!” said two or three of the others, 
and Grace’s resolution wavered. They kept 
on, and she followed slowly. Jennie began 
to show her vexation, for she could not endure 
that any one should interfere with her plans. 
Presently they reached the river’s edge. All 
this time Grace had been debating within her- 
self. She had been positively forbidden to go 
upon the river ; but how lovely it looked in the 
shimmering light! Spikes of crimson cardinal 
flowers lined the shore, and farther down there 
were clusters of lilies. She need not tell, and 
perhaps her parents would never hear. 

“Well, Miss Tender-Conscience,” began 
Jennie mockingly, “what shall you do?” 

[ 86 ] 


GRAGE^S HOLIDAY 


Grace flushed redly. 

“You ’re a little marplot in everything; put- 
ting on airs as if you were better than other 
people. I ’m sorry I asked you; I ’ll never 
invite you anywhere again.” 

That made Grace angry, and she answered 
back. One or two of the girls would have 
taken her part, but they were restrained by 
their girlish admiration of Jennie; so poor 
Grace had to fight her battle alone; but that 
gave her the bravery she needed. She turned 
proudly away. 

“Let her go,” said Horace. “What ’s the 
use of making such a row?” 

Alone by herself, Grace began to weep pas- 
sionately, and declare, as she had several 
times before, that she never would go any- 
where again with Jennie. She sat down under 
a tree, feeling utterly miserable. Her day was 
a failure. Not an hour of it had been real 
happy. If she had taken her mother’s advice ! 
Would it be too late to go and read to Alice? 

[ 87 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


— then her day would not be entirely wasted. 
A gay laugh floated from the river, and for 
half a moment she wished herself with the 
girls. 

“It is best and right,” she said reluctantly, 
and began to find her way out of the wood. 

It was a long walk to Mrs. Dean’s cottage. 
She was warm and tired when she reached the 
place, and still nervous from her recent dis- 
pute. But Alice recognized the voice, and 
held out her thin white hand. 

“I ’m so glad you have come!” and a little 
flush brightened her face. 

Grace did not feel much like talking, so she 
found her book and began to read, growing 
more tranquil with the effort. Presently her 
old interest in the story returned, and she went 
on until Mrs. Dean began to set the supper- 
table. 

“You must have a cup of tea with Alice,” 
Mrs. Dean said. “I don’t believe your mamma 
will be displeased.” 


[ 88 ] 



1 f 


“ ‘ It is best and rignt, ’ she said 



GRACE^S HOLIDAY 


Alice was delighted to be propped up in her 
easy-chair by the table. The two girls had a 
nice, cosy time, as delightful as the supper in 



“Grace began to read” 


the woods, Grace thought. But Alice was very 
tired afterward. 

‘‘Perhaps I had better not finish,’' Grace 

said, glancing at the book. 

[ 91 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


“Oh! do, please, I am so interested!” and 
Grace read on to the last word. 

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you. 
It has been such a pleasure to hear them all. 
And Gracie, if you would only sing 'Glory to 
Thee, my God.’ Is it too late?” 

Grace sat on the edge of the bed and sang in 
her sweet voice, which was calm ‘and musical 
enough now. Alice held her hand all the 
while. 

“Oh!” she said, “what a lovely afternoon it 
has been ! How good you are, Grace !” 

“Not very,” said Grace soberly, for yester- 
day she had thought this work of love a hard- 
ship. “I wish I could be real good.” 

Alice kissed her tenderly, and made her 
promise to come soon again. 

It was dusk when Grace reached home. 
Mamma returned soon after; and, at the first 
glimpse of her daughter’s face, asked tenderly 
if she had enjoyed herself all day. 

“Come, sit down and let me talk to you, 

[ 92 ] 


GRACE^S HOLIDAY 



Mamma. I did n’t have the pleasure I 
expected, but I had something better after- 
ward. It ’s quite a story, and I think you are 

[ 93 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


right about Jennie Carlton. She is proud and 
selfish and disagreeable.” 

‘‘I don’t say that. There may be some fault 
in you as well.” 

get angry easily, and then Jennie calls 
me spitfire. And I was n’t good to-day, only I 
did obey you in one thing.” So Grace told her 
story. 

‘‘My darling, how thankful I am that you 
had the courage to do right;” and Mrs. How- 
ard drew her daughter closer to her heart. 

“Don’t praise me. Mamma. Perhaps, if Jen- 
nie had been sweet and pleasant, I might have 
been tempted to go. But I am so glad I read 
to Alice! O Mamma! your plan for the day 
was better than mine. I wish I could always 
think so in the beginning.” 

“We all gain a good deal of our wisdom by 
experience, my little girl; but now you must 
go to bed, for I think you have had enough 
excitement for one day.” 

It was quite late when Grace came down the 

[ 94 ] 


GRAGE^S HOLIDAY 


next morning. “Ah! honey,” said Bridget, 
“you may be glad you did n’t go sailing with 
the girls. They were upset, and Miss Jennie 
came near getting drowned.” 

Some one stood on the porch; it was Mrs. 
Dean’s nearest neighbor, and Grace ran out 
to ask after Alice. 

“She ’s up in heaven. Miss,” answered the 
woman solemnly. “She died in the night, as 
peaceful as she always lived. If ever there 
was an angel, she is one.” 

“O Mamma !” said Grace, with her eyes full 
of tears, “it is better to make others happy 
than to be thinking only of one’s self. I am 
so glad now !” 

And when she looked on Alice Dean’s still 
white face, she prayed that she might be less 
selfish and more thoughtful for the happiness 
of those around her. 


[ 95 ] 



GONE ASTRAY 



GONE ASTRAY 


GONE ASTRAY 

T he Crosby boys knew little Miss 
Wing by sight — she went to the 
same church, and had a seat in the 
same aisle, nearer down by the door. 
An odd, quaint body, not larger than a girl of 
fourteen, with white side-curls done upon 
combs — once they had been flaxen. Her face 
was wrinkled, but her step retained all its 
youthful quickness, though her voice had a 
little cracked sound. 

Then she lived in the same street. A nest 
of a cottage, painted brown, but overgrown 
with vines; one large window full of flowers 
in winter, and in summer the prettiest garden 
for the size that you could imagine. It was 
Miss Wing’s delight. Early and late, you 
might find her working in it. Then she had an 
enormous Angora cat, a dainty little King 

[ 99 ] 




^AN EASTER LILY 


Charles spaniel, and canary birds by the doz- 
ens. Here she lived with old black Hannah, 
her one servant-maid, for she had come here 
with her father when she was quite a young 
girl. 

At that time the place had been country in- 
deed. Now the city was stretching out to it. 
People of means had built pretty villas and 
cottages along the street, and it had become 
quite stylish. The Crosbys lived at the end 
nearer the city. 

One day Miss Wing had a letter from her 
cousin, who was a traveling agent for a com- 
mercial house; a widower with an only son, 
thirteen years of age. 

‘T want to send Frank to you,” he wrote; 
‘‘and please do not refuse me. He has been 
two years at boarding-school, and has given 
out — he always was rather delicate. The doc- 
tor says he must spend at least six months in 
the country, running about, and hardly look- 
ing inside a book. None of his mother’s peo- 

[ 100 ] 


GONE ASTRAY 


pie can take him, and I am compelled to go 
South and West immediately. I will pay you 
well for your trouble, for I know that you will 
take good care of him. Just let him play 
around and have a good time.’^ 

Little Miss Wing read the letter in the ut- 
most consternation. What could she do with 
a boy! 

Then she went out to consult Hannah, who 
was as much astonished as her mistress. 

Still she had n’t the heart to refuse, espe- 
cially as this cousin had been like a brother to 
her. And so in May Frank Murray came, ’his 
sole companion a traveling trunk. A pale, 
slender boy, neither pretty nor plain exactly, 
but with great soft dark eyes. She took him 
to her heart at once. 

He was a regular boy — a boy who, for three 
years, had not known a mother’s care or a 
home. He tormented the cat and cut off his 
whiskers; he stuck Tiny’s silken coat full of 
dry burrs that he found somewhere ; he stum- 

[ 101 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


bled over the flower-beds ; brought in loads of 
dirt that vexed Hannah’s cleanly soul, and 
made a commotion in the house generally. 

Yet he was not a bad boy. He had days of 
being very good and obedient to Aunt Sarah, 
but he was restless, and, most of all, wanted 
companionship. 

There were very few boys in the street. Up 
above, a family that Miss Wing did not ad- 
mire very much — two sharp, shrewd boys, 
who sold papers and did various little odd 
jobs to earn money, and then spent it in folly. 
Their father was not a very steady man, and 
their mother did dressmaking for the neigh- 
borhood around. A thriftless kind of house- 
hold, not at all to Miss Wing’s taste. 

But the Crosbys had won her heart. Three 
fine, sturdy boys — sixteen, fourteen, and 
twelve; and then there were two little girls, 
younger. They always went to church on 
Sunday with their parents, were regular at 
Sunday-school, and everybody spoke in their 

[ 102 ] 


GONE ASTRAY 


praise. Then they seemed to have such a 
happy time playing ball and croquet in their 
own grounds, or reading under the shady 
trees. 

The first Sunday Frank had a headache and 
did not go out. On the second he went to 
church, but did not want to attend Sunday- 
school, as he did n’t know any of the boys. 

Miss Wing studied a long while on the sub- 
ject, and at last her courage was brought to 
the point by a remark of Frank’s. 

‘T ’d like to know those Crosby boys,” he 
said earnestly. “They seem to have such 
jolly times. I watched them playing croquet 
yesterday. It ’s awful dull here. Aunt Sarah.” 

She had a misgiving that it was, though she 
tried to make it as entertaining as possible, 
taking him down-town of errands, and trying 
to instruct him in gardening, for which he had 
very little taste, it must be confessed. 

They came up the street one evening, and 
found the three boys on the grassy slope of 
the lawn, looking very bright and happy. 

[ 103 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


Miss Wing made a little halt, and cast her 
eyes wistfully toward them. 

‘‘Good evening,” said Randolph, the eldest, 
with a bow and a pleasant smile. They were 
always very polite. 

Miss Wing’s heart was up in her throat. 
Here was her golden opportunity, and another 
might not occur in a long while. 

“If you will be kind enough — ” and she 
paused, turning quite red. 

“If we can be of any service,” and the cour- 
teous Arthur sprang up. 

“I would like to introduce my nephew to 
you. He is a stranger, and going to spend the 
summer with me, and is a good deal at loss 
for companions. If you would come and see 
him—” 

“Thank you. He must come in and see us ;” 
and the three boys responded to the introduc- 
tion. 

“You always appear to be enjoying your- 
selves so much here — there are so many of you 

[ 104 ] 


GONE ASTRAY 


and you can hardly realize how lonely it is for 
one/’ she exclaimed in a confused, hesitating 
way. 

The boys chatted a little. Frank was de- 
lighted. Aunt Sarah saw the happy light in 
his eyes, and was quite satisfied with her ex- 
periment. 

“I hope they ’ll come soon,” said Frank, as 
they resumed their walk. “They ’re like the 
oldest boys at school, and ought to make the 
first move.” 

“I think they will,” Aunt Sarah returned 
hopefully. 

The Crosby boys spoke of the incident at the 
supper-table. 

”Yes, I ’ve seen the little fellow,” said Mr. 
Crosby. “He cannot be Miss Wing’s own 
nephew though, if his name is Murray.” 

“I think it would be better to know a little 
more concerning him before he is admitted to 
much intimacy,” said Mrs. Crosby. “I do not 
like making up with strangers.” 

[ 105 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


“There ’s something about his face that I 
don’t quite like,” remarked Arthur, who was 
rather fastidious. 

“But he has such beautiful eyes,” said little 
Walter, “and I suppose he must be lonesome.” 

“Still, it is best not to go too hastily into 
friendships. Boys cannot be too careful,” re- 
plied their prudent mother. 

Mrs. Crosby was a trifle exclusive. She was 
also proud of her children, and took the utmost 
pains with them. Never were boys more 
carefully guarded, never was home made more 
delightful. They had their friends, too, but 
she always exercised the casting vote in such 
matters. 

Frank had made a slight acquaintance with 
Dan and Johnny Price, the other two boys 
in the street, but, knowing that Aunt Sarah 
disapproved, he said little about it. The next 
day, however, rambling down to the river, he 
found them there fishing, and, in boy’s par- 
lance, they had rather a jolly time. Dan was 

[ 100 ] 


GONE ASTRAY 


a sharp, droll fellow, and kept Frank laughing 
heartily at his jokes. 

He hurried home by the time the Crosby 
boys usually returned from school. 

“Do you believe they will come to-day. 
Aunt Sarah?” he asked, after he had fidgeted 
about awhile, and she had tried very hard not 
to be nervous. 

“Not so soon, perhaps,” in the most soothing 
tone. 

“O dear! I ’d rather be back at school. 
How dull it is without anybody.” 

“I wish I could make it brighter for you, 
Frank,” and Aunt Sarah’s eyes filled with 
tears. 

“Oh ! you are good enough.” 

Then the boy’s restless eyes wandered down 
the street. If there only was some one to 
play with, to talk to, or even to share a walk. 
After the crowd of boys at school, it was very 
lonesome indeed. And somehow the Crosbys 
seemed so much nicer than Dan Price. 

[ 107 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


And so another afternoon of expectation 
passed. Frank recalled the bright faces with 
a feeling* of keen disappointment. Toward 
night he walked down past the house. They 
had some company, and were very gay; and 
somehow a few tears came into the eyes of the 
lonely boy. They did not see him, of course. 

Dan Price happened along just then. 

“What a stuck up set those Crosby boys 
are,’’ he said. “They think because their 
father ’s in a bank and they go to the Acad- 
emy, they ’re better than any one else.” 

“Do they?” 

“Why, they won’t speak to anybody. And 
that Arthur ’s a regular Miss Nancy. He 
always does look so fine.” 

“I wonder if they think themselves above 
me?” ruminated Frank. 

At school such snobbishness would soon 
have been taken out of a boy. 

“I wish you ’d gone down-town with us. 
I made thirty-four cents, and had some oysters 

[ 108 ] 


GONE ASTRAY 


and some root-beer. I say, won’t you go to- 
morrow?” 

“I don’t know” — rather hesitatingly. 

‘‘Won’t your aunt let you?” 

“Oh! I do not ask her,” returned Frank, 
with an assumption of mannishness. 

Dan went on describing the fun they had. 
There were such crowds of boys down-town, 
a jolly set, always ready for a lark. It did 
look rather tempting to Frank, and he partly 
promised. 

Aunt Sarah wanted him to take a walk in the 
woods with her, though she was going princi- 
pally for his pleasure. But then some ladies 
came in to call. 

So Frank rambled off, found Dan and 
Johnny, who had pretty good luck selling out 
their papers. Then, as it was a warm day, they 
had a glass of cream-soda, with wine instead of 
syrup. A lady stood at the opposite counter 
buying several articles, but Frank did not no- 
tice her. 


[ 109 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


It was Mrs. Crosby. That evening at the 
table she said : “Boys, I very much prefer that 
you should not make any intimacy with that 
Frank Murray. I saw him in a drug-store 
with those Price children, taking sherry in his 
soda; and the Prices are low and ill-bred. I 
do not wish you to have any such associates.” 

“I wish those boys were not in the neigh- 
borhood,” rejoined Mr. Crosby. 

“We can avoid them, at all events. The 
boys have enough acquaintances who are 
worthy, so it is not worth while to run any risk 
with those who are not. I own that I am 
afraid of evil associates.” 

Mr. Crosby sighed. He was superintendent 
of a mission Sunday-school, and he thought of 
the many boys that were led astray by wicked 
companions. But he did not think that here 
was a chance to save one right by his door. 

Frank merely said he had been down-town, 
in answer to Aunt Sarah. He had been trying 
to smoke a cigar, and so could not eat any sup- 
per, but went to bed early. 

[ 110 ] 


GONE ASTRAY 


He waited a week for the Crosby boys to 
call upon him, and at last ventured himself. 
He found them very polite, but he missed the 
hearty boyish friendliness to which he had 
been accustomed. He played a game of cro- 
quet, and then a cousin called to see Arthur. 

Randolph was rather too old for Frank, but 
he fancied that he should like Walter very 
much. When he went away the child asked 
him to come again. 

“I could n’t help it, mother,” he said. ‘‘He 
has such sad, longing eyes.” 

“But I do not wish you to go there.” 

Miss Wing made another effort. She men- 
tioned Frank to the superintendent of the Sun- 
day-school, and he sent one of the teachers to 
call, but the gentleman came one evening after 
the boy was in bed. By dint of much persua- 
sion, she induced Frank to go the next Sunday ; 
but he was placed in a class with Arthur 
Crosby, and he concluded then that Arthur 
was proud and “stuck up,” as Dan had said. 

[Ill] 


AN EASTER LILY 


Then Dan coaxed him to go to the chapel 
with him, which was quite a walk down in the 
city. After a Sunday or two, they spent all 
the time in walking, though he did not tell 
Aunt Sarah this, nor of many other things that 
he well knew she would disapprove. 

If there had only been some one to save 
him! If this happy mother could only have 
opened her heart a little, and taken in the 
motherless child! If these bright young boys 
with all their advantages could have sympa- 
thized with his loneliness, and given him what 
he most needed — pure and good companion- 
ship — it would have made so much difference 
with him ! 

For he was worth saving. When he first 
came to his kind aunt, who would have done 
anything for him, he had no bad habits. But 
it is so easy to fall into them. First, Frank 
began to deceive Aunt Sarah; then he con- 
tracted a taste for liquor, and learned to 
smoke; he fell in with some of Dan’s associ- 

[ 112 ] 


GONE ASTRAY 


ates, used every art in his power to get money 
from his aunt, and at last did not hesitate long 
at crime. 

The three boys found a pocketbook one day, 
containing nearly fifty dollars. Dan was for 
dividing it, but at first Frank said it ought to be 
taken to the police-station. At last he was 
overruled, for they all wanted money. So 
they bought cream and soda and candies, hired 
a boat, and went up the river and took dinner 
at a hotel. Two other boys were invited, and 
they finished in the evening by going to the 
theatre. 

Aunt Sarah was dreadfully troubled. She 
conjured up many terrible things, and was so 
thankful at last to see him return in safety. 

But poor Frank was very sick that night and 
the next day. Aunt Sarah shed many bitter 
tears over him. Had she not tried to her ut- 
most? No one had come forward to help her. 
And yet every one talked of the work that was 
to be done in saving these young souls. Oh ! 

8 — An Easter Lily [ 113 ] 


AN EASTER LILY 


if they could be saved before they went too far 
astray ! 

Looking over a paper, an advertisement 
caught Frank’s eye. A poor woman had lost 
a pocketbook containing forty-six dollars, all 
she had in the world for herself and three little 
children. Five dollars reward was offered. 
Frank knew it well by the description. This 
poor woman’s money had been idled away in 
something worse than folly. He was actually 
a thief! Perhaps the children were starving. 
Oh ! what could he do ? 

Day after day he lay there on the sofa con- 
sidering. Could he confess it? Would Aunt 
Sarah ever forgive him? And oh ! what would 
his father say? 

I am glad to tell you that he did take this 
step at last, though it was a hard struggle. 
He and Aunt Sarah cried together over the 
terrible story, and she even offered to refund 
the whole amount on condition that Frank 
would give up the Prices and all the evil habits 

[ 114 ] 


GONE ASTRAY 


that he had contracted. Poor fellow! He 
found it no easy work^ but he did try. 

“Aunt Sarah,” he said one day, “I know I 
should n’t have been half so bad if the Crosbys 
had cared to be friends with me.” 

She thought so, too. 

Ah ! it is not the bad boys only who need to 
be saved. And the people who pass by on the 
other side rarely do all they might. Our 
neighbors are near as well as far off. God 
help us to do our duty by them! 


(The End.) 


[ 115 ] 


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